UnNamed
by wyverna
Summary: Unusual, unwelcomed, unwanted, unsummoned, uncalled-for, unneeded, uninvited, UnNamed. {R&R} FS. Dedicated to thesolitary-dragon
1. Extraordinary Girl

_"She's all alone again  
Wiping the tears from her eyes..."  
---_Green Day, "Extraordinary Girl."

The young woman sighed, and pushed her dark hair away from her face. She inadvertently touched her bruise, and winced. _Still sore_. She continued to type up the blurred details of the accounts, her mind drifting. When she'd first started this secretarial job, it had been a welcome distraction from everything else, and her mind had been crystal clear and focused. Now, however, it was tarnished and distant. It reminded her of a knife, once sharp and gleaming, now dulled and blunt. She lay unused in a kitchen drawer, dusty and forgotten, looking without seeing at the same blank scene with the same blank stare.

She let out a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding, and glanced in the nearby mirror. If she didn't know it was her, she wouldn't have recognized even herself. The sparkle that used to be always present in her doe-like eyes had hidden itself far away, perhaps even with someone else, someone happier. Her once glossy dark hair had been scraped back from her face so tight that all its lustre had been dulled and even the tiniest curl lay dead at the ends of her judging fingers.

Her skin had a sickly pale pallor that seemed unnatural, and even the tiny gold studs in her ears seemed perfect in comparison to her sheer oddity. She cried out in dismay at the image before her and, raising a tiny fist, she plunged it straight towards the mirror. The force of her rage made an impact when it normally wouldn't have any effect. The mirror seemed to hang in the air for a moment, quivering in its perfect form, before vertically dropping, a straight flight to the ground.

It smashed upon one single touch of the ground, one corner shooting upwards as it shattered singly, cleanly. Summer gasped, her hands instinctively flying to her mouth.

"I never meant to do this... any of this," she murmured. Onlookers might have assumed she was referring to the mirror, but she was talking about her loveless marriage, her past mistakes. She stifled a sob, and bent to pick up the shards of glass. One caught her eye, and she turned it over and over, laying the dangerous yet fragile looking crystal in the palm of her hand. She clenched her fist, and felt the sharp pain.

She dropped it abruptly, gently cradling one hand in another. Yet another mistake, yet another thing she wished she hadn't done. She gently squeezed the soft, creamy skin and watched curiously as a shining scarlet drop of blood formed itself. She felt distant, detached almost, as though she were watching someone else, acting a part in some unreal imaginings.

A tear slid slowly down the bridge of her slight, up-turned nose, dropping off the edge. It seemed to have no hesitations about the jump, and she wished she could be as impulsive. It fell through the heavy air, slowly turning around and around. It splashed into the pool of blood that was welling up on her palm, and the two mingled perfectly; sadness, no, not sadness. So much more than sadness, _fear_. Fear, of what she had become mingled perfectly with with the pain, pain of being herself.

She slowly lifted her hand, and smeared the mixture of heart truths down one cheek. Sitting back down at her desk, she buried her head in her hands and let the pain and, most of all, the fear devour her from within.

* * *

_Freddy Jones, alcoholic extraordinnaire_. That was all he was good for, mused the young man, a familiar bottle clutched in his shaky hand. His dirty blond spikes curled over limply as though, like Freddy himself, they'd simply given up, though not through lack of trying. His once mischievous chocolate brown eyes stared blankly at the TV, watching some old re-run of his mind, as the screen itself was dark and solemn, showing nothing but a black reflection of the blond's own mood.

He lay slumped on the threadbare couch, deemed lifeless if it were not for the occasional swig of the bottle and faint, shallow, fluttering breaths he was forced to take. His ripped jeans and crumpled, stained, stiff Metallica tee stank of rancid sweat and sour alcohol. He hadn't moved in so many days, he was unsure if he was still able. He willed his right arm to move, and it raised itself for long enough to pour some of the precious, burning liquid down his hot, dry throat.

He was disgusted with himself, with what he had become. He somehow found the energy to violently throw the bottle across the room. He watched in horror as it shattered, and as the pure, amber liquid dribbled down the already discolored wallpaper. He realized that it was his last bottle. The tears fell freely, although they were both unsummoned and unwanted. Catching one on the tip of his pointed pink tongue, he was surprised at its tangy, salty taste; so much beer had gone in his mouth that he expected it to also come out of his mouth.

Then again, maybe he'd just forgotten a taste other than alcohol.

_Alcohol_. Already it seemed to be fading into his memory, and he needed more. It brought unwelcome feelings of guilt, greed and anger to the surface, but as hideous as these were he valued them still, as they were the only emotions that managed to touch his numb, anesthetized self and get some kind of reaction.

He felt himself get up and kneel by the pool of beer slowly draining away, and he seemed to have no control, as though he were someone else. He bent down, and realized with a sick fascination just exactly what he was planning to do. He slowly placed a hand on either side of the damp beer stain, fighting it all the way, and lowered himself, until he was touching the alcohol-soaked carpet, attempting to lap it up like a trained lapdog.

He felt great distaste, but knew somehow that this was all that was left for him.


	2. She

"_She...  
__She screams in silence..."  
---_Green Day, "She".

Summer stumbled into the tiny bathroom, with its unfriendly warning of "Employees Only". The world spun around her, determined to do whatever it could to get her out, and one tiny hand clutched at the rim of the scum-ridden sink. She dropped to her knees and put her hand to her mouth worriedly. She checked the reflex action – she mustn't bite her nails. Not again. Not after he- not after what happened last time.

She dropped her hands, and looked over them nervously. The skin around the tiny slivers of cut-too-short nail was still red and raw. She clawed her way back up, and raised herself slowly over the basin, every movement an effort. Yes, there it was. The mirror. She studied her reflection critically. Can't look sad. Can't look too happy. Don't want to look like she's feeling sorry for herself. Don't want to look like she's got some dirty little secret...

Not after he- not after what happened last time. She settled on a blandly neutral expression, that cleanly erased all the rare traces of the person she once had been. Her feelings, emotions – all wiped away in that one instant. She was like a clean white sheet of paper, perhaps crumpled and torn but still ready, still waiting for someone to tell her how to act, how to feel. Still waiting for _him_.

She noticed with a shock that she still had that scarlet smear of blood and tears branded on her face, showing up brilliantly against her white skin, like a vicious act of defiance. She gave an involuntary shudder, disgusted with herself. She turned on a tap, and splashed some water on her face, gasping aloud at the shock of the icy water on her tender skin.

Suddenly, it all became clear, as though a tinted glass in front of her eyes had been shattered, or a hazy mist had vanished. My God, it _was_ true. She _was_ ugly! Her greasy, unkempt hair was scraped back, she had massive purply-blueish bags under her tired eyes, and a red mark with bruising was spread over one side of her face.

She'd _tried_ to tidy herself, to look pretty again, for _him_, because she loved him, and wanted to prove that. It hadn't worked though, he'd asked her why she was "tarting herself up". Was there some other man? No, she told herself, don't blame him! It's not his fault, it's not just that. He was right. Everything he'd said, he was right. She had no inner beauty, none at all. And he _wasn't_ being harsh, she'd deserved a few home truths, it was for her own safety after all. This way, she wouldn't ever get above herself and besides, he loved her anyway. And the most important thing was – he was right again – she _was_ lucky to have him, very lucky.

She went out, with a bright, fake smile plastered on her face, contrasting deeply with the pure sadness that was hiding in her eyes and weighing on her heart.

She went out, to meet the man she called "loving husband" and everyone else called "cruel tyrant".

* * *

**Unlikely-to-bear-it:** Yay, I'm really glad you liked it. I'm also glad you thought it was unrealistic, I was a little worried about the whole Freddy-lapping-up-the-beer, I thought it might be taking it all alittle too far. This is a really short chapter, I'm sorry to say, and there's not much Freddy in it either. In fact, scratch that, there's NO Freddy in it. Don't worry, though, he'll be in it next chapter. Oh, and in case after reading this chapter you think that he's Summer's husband - he's not! Aww, however much of a drunken wreck Freddy might be, I'd never let him hurt his wife - or _any_ one - 'cause he's not like that. He might hurt some guy, but not a girl. Anyway, I hope I updated soon enough, but I'm not sure where this is going myself!

**Marcy Bayd:** Whoa, a lot of 'good's there! Well, three actually, but still... I'm glad you like it, and I hope I carry on with my good start! ;o) Thanks for the review!

**thesolitary-dragon:** for some reason I always want to put a 'one' in there, like the_one_solitary-dragon, I don't know why. Anyways, nice review, the longest I've got! only really annoys me when it's being stupid, and just says "bad gateway" all the time, I don't really have any other problems with it. Wow, there's a lot of nice compliments in that review, lol! The words 'awesome' 'powerful' and 'beautiful' really took me by surprise, I was like... is this meant for me? And of course you're good enough, if you hadn't written your fic then I'd never have been inspired to write this one. So there. I win! It's not that angst/seriousness isn't "my deal", exactly, and comedy's all very well, but I can never combine the two. It's either a totally happy, light piece with no real meaning, or it's total angst, and way overboard, so to speak, like this one. I'm really, _really_ glad you liked it, I think this is the first review I've ever got off you! The Recess fics of yours I read were... "Always By My Side", a couple of your one-shots, "Where The Skeletons Lie" and "Kiss Me At Midnight." Poetic? Wow, that's... wow, lol. I'm really... pleasantly surprised. Look at all my "...", if these were words then I'd be speechless! Anyways, thanks for the awesome review and don't ask me where this story is going because I, myself, really have no idea! So, I hope you like this chapter, too.

**i am phsyopathic:** I'm really glad you liked it, I hope I updated soon enough for you!

**i am not a chipmunk:** I feel soooo honored! Speechless? Really? Wow! I just... wow! Whoa, a _threat_ if I don't update! That's... quite worrying, lol... Yeah, I do write quite a lot of light stories, but after a while, when you're depressed, all the happiness gets quite annoying, and I have to get out all the badness by making all my characters as messed up as possible. Let them go through the pain so I don't have to! Um, please don't spaz out, I've updated haven't I? Oh, and you don't think the Freddy drinking the beer out of the carpet was a little too much, do you?


	3. Whatsername

Freddy groaned as consciousness kicked its way through his skull, with metal boots by the feel of it. He could also see the malicious face in his mind, and it looked like his mother. At the thought of her he picked up the nearest thing at hand, which happened to be a bottle. _Surprised?_ He smashed it on the floor, and a few of the shards embedded themselves in his wrist. He brought it up to his mouth, instinctively licking the blood away, and shuddered as a thought occurred to him.

Smashing things. Destroying things. That was all he was good for. Throwing bottles across the room in anger, why always the anger? He was too dumb to have deep thoughts, that's what he'd always been told, and now he was believing it to be true. He couldn't express his thoughts any other way, and there was no way for him to let it out.

He wished he was like Zack, who had always managed to say exactly how he felt through his songs. _Zack_. He hadn't thought of that name for a while. And what about quiet Lawrence, how did he express _his_ feelings? Freddy didn't know, because he'd never bothered to ask. And what about Katie, who had never kept her feelings locked up after Dewey came. Someone say something she didn't like, well, they'd soon know about it.

And what about... He punched the ground in annoyance, not being able to remember the name he was searching for. Oh, come on, he _must_ know, he'd seen her only last night!

_Thought I ran into you down on the street,_

_Then it turned out to only be a dream,_

He remembered seeing her perfectly, he'd been walking down the street, hands shoved deep in pockets, head down, not looking at anyone, not seeing anything. He'd bumped into someone, and muttered an apology.

"Freddy?" she'd said, in amazement. "Freddy Jones?" He looked twice.

"It's you!" he'd said, and it was so good to see her again. "It's... it's..." He'd woken up, not able to remember the name, but the dream was still vivid in his mind.

_I made a point to burn all of the photographs,_

_She went away and then I took a different path_

He remembered every detail of his life with her in it, but not her name. He'd been best friends with her, and it had surprised him. He'd never thought that he could be friends with a girl, let alone best friends. And especially not with _her_, Miss Teacher's Pet. Oh, _what_ was her name? But he _had_ been best friends with her. For some reason, he could tell her things he couldn't tell anyone else. He knew why – all his other friends would sympathize, and pretend to understand, but she would tell him exactly what she thought, whether it was harsh, or mean, or simply honest. And he valued that.

They'd sworn to stick together, no matter what. She'd instilled a sense of self-control in him, and he'd encouraged her to loosen up a little. But then, one night he was working up the courage to ask her out, and she'd phoned him. She wasn't going to see him anymore, she said, she was going away with her boyfriend and going to get a nice little job and stay at home mostly.

She wouldn't listen when he said the boyfriend was bad news, he was controlling and manipulative. He was the type to think, if he couldn't have her then no-one could. He scared Freddy, and Freddy wasn't scared easily. So she'd gone, without listening to him, and Freddy – once again not knowing how to express his anger – had burnt every... single... photograph he had of her.

_I remember the face,_

_But I can't recall the name,_

_Now I wonder how whatsername has been_

It was really beginning to get to him, not remembering the name, and the face was still in his mind. Long dark brown hair, almost black, framing her pale heart shaped face. Her ruby-red lips, naturally that way as she never wore make-up, never needed it. Her small, up-turned nose and her greatest beauty, her eyes. Big brown eyes, with long sooty lashes, and just a hint of pain and sadness in them. That's what made them such interesting eyes, all the Populars who followed him around had such shallow eyes, with no depth to them, and fluttery eyelashes that reminded him of a Barbie doll.

What always amazed him – _and_ shocked him – was the way she never thought she was pretty. He didn't know what she saw when she looked in that mirror, but it sure wasn't what he saw when he looked at her. Boring brown, she used to say, eyes and hair. He tried and tried, but he couldn't make her _see_, see the glints of gold and the faint traces of red and the gleaming colors that made up her 'boring' brown hair.

Couldn't make her see the levels in her eyes, the way her emotions could be reflected so easily if you just knew where to look. Couldn't make her see her inner beauty, the delighted look when he made her laugh, the way her eyes sparkled when he complimented her, the way...

Couldn't make her see that he loved her. Where _is_ she? I have to see her, Freddy thought, I have to see her again.

_Seems that she disappeared without a trace,_

_Did she every marry old what's his face_

He'd tried, a few years ago. He'd searched the phone book for a... for a... for _her_ name, but he couldn't find it. He'd known her name then, but not now. But he couldn't find her, couldn't find her anywhere, and he'd sat down and cried. She'd been his one last hope. He'd thought that if he could just hear her voice, her matter-of-fact tone, then that would be what he needed to pull himself back together. She'd give it to him straight, like before, and he'd quit the alcohol, get a job, and get back on track.

But he couldn't find her anywhere, and he'd sat down and cried. And he'd hated it, hated being like this. It wasn't him, but he was losing who he was. He didn't even understand it himself, all he knew was that he wanted to speak to her. And then he realized – the boyfriend. That's why he couldn't find her name anywhere – she'd probably taken his. And that made him angry.

_I made a point to burn all of the photographs,_

_She went away and then I took a different path_

And the only way he could express his anger was to burn all the pictures. He didn't need them anyway, he could picture her face perfectly, like he'd seen her the last time. Laughing, full of life, with her final wave before she got in the car and was away with _him_. The boyfriend. Maybe even the husband.

And before she went, when he'd been with her still, life had been good. They were planning to go to university, and then onwards. Freddy had been planning to be an artist, and at first he'd been shy of showing his paintings to – there it was again, the loss of name, it had been on the tip of his tongue. He guessed he'd just continue to call her _her_. Anyway, he'd been shy of showing her his paintings at first, they were so dear to him, he'd put so much of himself in them, and he didn't want her to treat them with the same harsh cynicism she did everything.

He'd been pleasantly surprised, however, like he was so often around her. She'd loved his paintings, said they showed real talent. "I must admit," he remembered her saying, "when you first told me you painted I thought it'd be all this trashy, modern, abstract stuff. But this, Freddy," she said, pointing out a picture called "Her", "this is beautiful."

"It's... It's about you," he'd stammered, the normally overly-confident Freddy Jones replaced with a shyer one. He'd regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, but it was worth the embarrassment to see her face flush with pleasure.

But when she went, he dropped out, and turned to the only other thing that was still important to him – the drink. She went, and his life turned right around.

_I remember the face,_

_But I can't recall the name,_

_Now I wonder how whatsername has been_

Her face, her beautiful face was still fresh in his mind, and the name was still evading him, but her face took him through the troubles. He _knew_ that he was bordering on obsession, but to tell the truth, he didn't care. He needed her, and he wondered if she needed him.

_Remember, whatever, it seems like forever ago,_

_Remember, whatever, it seems like forever ago_

There's no point, he thought roughly, it's too long ago, it's like another life. Is there any point in still knowing her, in still thinking of her? No, he told himself, of course not, but he still couldn't bring himself to let go, to move on. He'd tried before, and there was just no way he could do it. He needed someone, someone to stop him from going too far and having that extra bottle, that something more. And to him she is that someone, though she'll never know it.

_The regrets are useless, in my mind, she's in my head, I must confess_

_The regrets are useless, in my mind, she's in my head, from so long ago_

However much he told himself it was wrong to still think about her, that he must move on, there was no way he could. She was always there, like an angel, reminding him of everything he did wrong. She told him he could do the right thing, could get his life back together, could pick up the pieces, but he _couldn't_! Didn't she understand? _She_ was his life, his all, but she was _gone_! And although she'd gone, she still never left him.

He clutched his head; he was going mad, he really was. Sighing, he sat back against the wall, his hand feeling empty with no bottle placed in it. Like he was missing a part, but all he was missing was _her_.

And, perhaps, his sanity.

_And in the darkest night,_

_If my memory serves me right,_

_I'll never turn back time_

Summer Hathaway. Her name was Summer Anne Hathaway.

_Forgetting you, but not the time._

Green Day, "Whatsername".

This one is slightly different, because instead of just a few lines, I thought that the whole song was appropriate for this chapter. It is _so_ hard to pick just one song, I could write a story/chapter about every single Green Day song there is. Anyways, I managed to pick, so until next time!

Reviews.

**Unlikely-to-bear-it:** Yeah, I don't think Freddy's like that either! Poor guy, however low he might be feeling, he wouldn't be driven to that extreme... I'm not sure yet if any other band members are going to be in it... He remembers them in this chapter, but I don't think they'll be in it. However, you never know, so keep an eye out! And you can't kill whoever she's dating... _yet_. Haha, I don't know, Freddy may or may not hurt him in some way later, but he will _definitely_ get what's coming to him! Justice _will_ be done... hehehe...

**thesolitary-dragon:** I always look forward to your reviews! This chapter is a lot longer. I was wondering whether or not to put Freddy and Summer together, to make the chapter longer, but I couldn't because with Summer I thought it was right to just leave it there, y'know? I don't really understand abusive relationships either, I just don't see how someone could _do_ that to someone they say they love, it makes no sense to me. I didn't even know Summer _was_ in an abusive relationship until last chapter. It seems like I have no control over my characters, they just do whatever the hell they want! I'm glad you find it realistic, I had no idea why someone would stay with someone like that, but then I thought, well, to her he isn't like that. It's good that you'd abuse him back, I say kick him where it hurts!  
There's all Freddy in this one, but Summer's in it through his memories. I'm really glad you like this, I have no idea where it came from. It's not as... well, the first chapter was more of a riddle, in a way. The words were a kind of screen, so it was hard to tell what was going on, and that's what it was like for Summer and Freddy as well, they couldn't understand what was happening to them. Your review was not really short, it's the longest one I got! Mind you, compared to this one I see where you're coming from! I'm glad you liked the descriptions, it's like I see this picture in my mind and I just try and put it into words.  
I was slightly worried about the fact that people might think Freddy was her husband, but it doesn't seem like anyone did, and this chapter should also clear that up. Originally the chapters weren't going to have Green Day lyrics in them, but it's what I'm listening to at the time so it follows through into my work as they just seemed to fit, this one especially. This was originally going to be the lines "I'm a user and a loser" from Dookie, but this song just... completely changed the entire chapter plan. It's better this way, though. Green Day are _definitely_ my favorite band, along with I Am Kloot, Metallica, The Kaiser Chiefs and The Who right now. But Green Day are right up there on the top of the list. Billie-Joe has _the_ best voice. There's this song on Nimrod, "Worry Rock" I think, where the music stops and Billie just sings "Another sentimental arguemnt and bitter love" and it's just like, ... wow... I just... every time I hear that, it gives me goosebumps.  
Nirvana totally kick ass! Kurt Cobain's voice is only _slightly_ rivalled by his eyes. "Heart Shaped Box" is one of my favorites, along with "Penny Royal Tea" and, of course, "Smells Like Teen Spirit". I don't care what anybody says, it's not over-rated it is just teenage punk personified. Whoa, this is a long answer... well, until next time!

**Mracy Bayd:** Yes, indeed they do, but it was a cliff hanger for me as well as I had no idea what I was going to put next! Well, this isn't as much of a cliff hanger, so I hope you like it!

**Nanners-77:** sings Vancouuuuver, Vancouuuuver, Vancouuuuuuuuuverrrrrrr! ahem Anyway, glad you liked it soooo much ('cause I know you did) and I forgot to ask, did you see Joey while you were in Michigan? And did you tell him _exactly_ what we think of him (and his music, too)? Well, I'll move on from the fact that I've probably offended every single JGJ (Joey Gaydos Junior) fan out there... yeah, anyway, glad you liked it and I wiiish I was coming back to Torontooooooooo!

**rockerchik777:** Haha, I've made that mistake before! I'll be reading the answers and thinking "have they forgotten me? I _swear_ I reviewed..." but I haven't! I'm not sure who Summer's husband is, I don't think we'll meet him until nearer the end. If there ever _is_ an end. I might just get bored of it and decide to move on to something else, who knows? I don't even have anything to work towards, I have a vague idea for the next chapter but not much else. You're visiting London? YAY! Where are you from? When I say I live "near" London, I mean it's about a... two, three hour drive? shrugs Geography really isn't my thing...

**i am not a chipmunk: **Intense? Whoa, that's a new word! Very cool, too, I must say I'm honored that I was able to pull the Freddy-and-the-Carpet thing off, lol. I _am_ human, although sometimes I wish I wasn't what with _boys_... Well, I wish that I was still six years old and saw boys as nothing more than just good friends. I don't know! I don't know what I mean anymore! You don't sound pathetic at all, _I'm_ the pathetic one, fishing for compliments... hint hint... ;o) No, that was a joke, praise... scares me. It's like, argh! Flame me, for once! Yeah, that was another joke. I really need to calm down, don't I? And I'd love to bring a book out, but I just don't have the attention span needed. I have a really short one, you see, so I'd get bored of the book before it was finished. And I doubt "UnNamed" is a great name, y'see I couldn't think of one so I thought I'd leave it like that. Why is everyone threatening me? I'm too young to die! And no, I don't _think_ it prosecutes... one way to find out, huh?

**i am phsycopathic:** I am really getting over-whelmed by all these good things people are saying! Haha, nice threat in there, they'll probably - _probably_, mind you, nothing's certain - meet next chapter. Creepy? Hmm, are you _sure_ that's a good thing...? Ah well, I'll take your word for it, and this is the update so longed for!

**dozengirl:** in a sarcastic voice Oh yeah, I absolutely _hate_ Green Day, can't _stand_ them... lol, no, they kick ass! I love She's A Rebel, I also like (at the minute, bear in mind that this changes a lot) King For A Day, Ha Ha You're Dead, She, Don't Wanna Fall In Love and Poprocks and Coke. As well as the wonderful Warning. My friends say they like Waiting better, but it's Warning all the way for me! I was in an exam today, and the teacher said, "This is a warning..." and I was humming Warning all the way through the test! I've also had Maria stuck in my head lately, I just love the chorus! wanders off singing Mariiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiia, Mariiiiiiiiiiiiiiiaaaaaaaaa, Mariiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiaaaaa, where'd you go?...

That's all, folks!


	4. Misery

_"And they're gonna get high..._

_When they're low low low..._

_The fire burns from better days..._

_And he screamed why oh why..."  
_---Green Day, "Misery".

Freddy sighed as he picked up the paintbrush. It was at times like these that he was just tempted to throw a whole lot of paint on the canvas and call it art. Something like... "Anger Over Art", could be quite true. And it wasn't that no-one would buy it, he knew for a fact that a lot of those 'arty' types – and he thought of the word arty in quotation marks for a reason – would hang it over their fireplace and say oh yes, I'm _very_ interested in the symbolism of this piece. They'd say that it meant all kinds of things that he hadn't even considered. But no, the reason why he never did that is two reasons, really.

The first being that it would annoy his creative instincts. He _couldn't_ allow himself to do that, it just wouldn't be right. It would disappoint a greater part of himself. It's so difficult to explain, but it would be like selling-out, going against his morals. And the second reason was that it simply would not help. In order to properly express his feelings, to get his anger or whatever emotion he was feeling at the time, he had to create what he thought of as art.

He'd been painting while thinking all this, and stepped back to look over his picture. He never bothered with sketching it out first; if it didn't go right then he'd do it again, or incorporate it into the idea somehow. It showed a girl sitting cross-legged with her back to whoever was looking at the picture. Her head was in her hands, and she seemed upset. She had dark brown hair, almost black, and her hair was silky and shiny. There was a guy stood next to her, a comforting hand on her shoulder, but he was looking away from her, as though he had no idea she was there. He had an angry, upset, annoyed expression, and the two were in a room.

It had blank white walls, with red handprints on, as though someone had angrily hit the wall while their hands were sticky with blood. There was a natural wood chest-of-drawers, that had been painted white, although not very well as streaks were evident. There was a hardwood polished floor, but the girl was sat on a woollen knitted rug, in circles of blue and red. There was an unmade bed to the side, and the guy was stood in front of it. There was a mirror above the chest-of-drawers, but the girl's hair was hiding her face. Placed on the bed was a small teddy-bear, but it had no eyes and it's mouth appeared to be stitched shut.

Freddy sighed, and threw down his paintbrush. "A Room With A View" he titled it, in remembrance of a movie he had once watched, and tucked it under his arm. He strode out of the room, not knowing where he was going. _Maybe_, he thought. _Maybe I should end it all._ The rain beat down upon him, and he slid the painting into a protective bag that he'd thrown into the garbage, not thinking that he'd need it.

He glanced up at the sky, only realizing it was raining when his dirty-blond hair was wetly plastered to his head, and hung dripping in front of his eyes. He shivered, his t-shirt clinging to his form, and his jeans just soaked up the rain. He fell onto the ground, shaking violently in the numbing cold, and tore his knee through the rip in his jeans. The blood immediately poured itself down his leg, as though it had been waiting for a chance like this, a chance to be free.

He willed himself not to cry, not to let the tears escape like the blood was so eager to. He stood up, wincing at the jolt of pain that ran through him like a steel wire, and started walking. Just where he was walking to, he didn't know, but just walking was enough for now. He walked with his head down, keeping his gaze on his feet. The sky was dark, and he hadn't realized just how late it was. An ominous rumble sounded overhead, but Freddy never looked up until the lightning flashed.

He forced himself to stop, and clutched onto the rail that was luckily nearby. He was almost bent double, wheezing, out of breath. He hadn't realized just how out of shape he was, but his shivering wasn't making things any easier. He followed his hand down to see what it was holding. A rail, and the rail was attached to the bridge. It must be fate. God was telling him that there was no point. He broke "A Room With A View" over his knee, and threw the pieces into the river that was thrashing and bubbling below him, as though just waiting to swallow him into its depths.

It suddenly burst its banks, and the water overflowed. _I'm coming, don't worry,_ Freddy thought grimly, and prepared to jump, when-

"STOP!" came a sharp cry from behind him, and Freddy fell backward. He landed with a strong _crack_ onto the concrete, and moaned. That was going to hurt in the morning.

Summer hurried over, still thinking about a few moments before. She'd been kicked out of the house – again – this time for not... for not _what_? She had so many flaws, so many imperfections that she couldn't remember which one had this time been brought to her attention. He'd been right, she knew it, so she was waiting for him at the bridge where he normally came to pick her up – and _beat_ her up.

She peered worriedly at Freddy, who pulled a face. "Thanks for that," he grumbled.

"Pull yourself together, Jones, and stop feeling sorry for yourself," came the crisp reply. Freddy leapt to his feet – ignoring that protest from every aching bone in his body, and grabbed Summer's shoulders.

"Summer? Is that you?" There was no mistaking that no-nonsense tone, and he didn't need an answer. Pulling her towards him, he roughly kissed her. She was the first to pull away, but not as though she didn't want to, more like she wanted to say something. "What is it?" he asked, and she still marveled at how he always understood her.

"Still the same bad-ass Freddy Jones, aren't you?"

"Still the same stuck-up Summer Hathaway," he retorted, and they both enjoyed the familiar banter.

"I'm married."

"I know."

"So I'm not Hathaway, I'm Markham."

"You'll always be Hathaway to me."

"Always?"

"A Hathaway or a Jones," he replied, and before she had time to wonder what that meant, they were kissing again.

* * *

Well, not a long chapter but I think everything was said that needed to be really. I'm not sure why I went into such detail on the painting, I felt like it had some significance but I'm not sure what. I don't even know why it had all that stuff in it, I just could see it in my mind's eye, so... yeah. Actually, looking back on it, it _is_ quite a long chapter, for me anyway. Summer and Freddy finally meet, and don't waste any time, either! I just like the whole "I'm married." "I know." bit. Anyway, I hope you all likey!

Reviews.

**Unlikely-to-bear-it:** You were gonna kill him? He might die anyway, I'm not sure... I have no idea what's going to happen, lol, but he _should_ get what's coming to him. I hope. It might not even be a happy ending, for all I know. Omigosh, Basket Case rocks, doesn't it? It's like the story of me! Well, the first verse anyway, not the second... and have you seen the video? Mike is so _cute_! He has all this fluffy blond hair, bless! No, I don't _like_ like him (how childish am I; _like_ like, lol) I just think he's sweet. Now _Billie_, well, that's a different story... She is an awesome song, it's definitely one of my favorites. I can see him as a painter to, and I don't really know why. Maybe because he's a very creative person, I can see him putting a lot into his music, so he'd be either an actor or a painter, and being an actor wouldn't quite fit, I don't think. You getyour songsin your teachers' heads? Damn, I need to learn how to do that! I was having this massive bonding session with one of my teachers over "Dookie", and I was talking about Thin Lizzy with one of the others! He started playing The Boys Are Back In Town for us on the piano! It rocked! SO DOES JOHN LENNON!

**thesolitary-dragon:** Ok, this might take a while :o) Drinking is bad? I mean, yes! Drinking _is_ bad! Well, drinking _alcohol_ is bad... Kinda... Anyway! I don't know if any other author _has_ done Freddy as a painter... I don't think so... I'd like to think it's an original idea, but I'm not sure. I just - for some reason - _see_ him as a painter. Your sushi is old? That's bad. I don't like... sushi. I don't think. I might do. I've never actually dared try it. I can't really stand seafood though, except for good ol' reliable fish 'n' chips, mm-mmm.Green Day _are_ the wonderfullest of bands! They just ROCK! They rock so hard! I don't think it's weird that you asked your dad to go with you at all, he sounds pretty cool. You live in/near Vegas? As in, Las Vegas? Or some other Vegas? _Is_ there some other Vegas? Wow, the only Green Day song I can play on drums is Are We The Waiting, which isn't that hard, but I can play When September Ends, Macy's Day Parade and Good Riddance on guitar. I _really_ have no control over them, I don't even have any idea where this story is going or what's going to happen.  
Awesome is a good word. There's no way around it. I only got, like, 99 in this really easy English test that I had (everyone else got 100) because I used a word like, "awesomeness" and apparently it's not a word. But it should be! So then my friends were telling everyone who'd listen that I made up a word in my English exam... mutters under breath If a man abuses you, chop off his 'manhood' and burn it in front of his eyes... I'm not violent! I swear! Yes, I do think Whatsername worked well. I've used two AI songs so far, but it just depends on what I'm listening to, really. I think maybe Waiting for the next chapter, or possibly- Jeez! I just nearly blinded myself with the mouse! Anyway, I think maybe Waiting, but it might not be. Ooh, it may well be- no! I just remembered! It's going to be a couple of lines from "Fashion Victim", from Warning. Well, I say that now... His name is Billie Joe, not William Joseph, so named because his mom is from Oklahoma. He thinks it's spelled B-I-L-L-I-E because she was high on drugs from the pregnancy... oO His thoughts, not mine. Lol, I'm not obsessed! ahem Anyway, hoped that cleared things up for you :o) My favorite Nirvana song is (at the minute, it could change any time) Penny Royal Tea. And the person is question got kicked in the shin, if that makes you feel any better.  
Yes, we _do_ talk about music! But music rocks! Yay for music! And here's the much-longed-for update, hope you enjoyed!

**Rachel:** I'm glad you find it realistic, and The Lies They Tell Us rocks, doncha think? Yay! More Green Day fans! They just kick ass, don't they? Anyways, I hope you like this chapter!

**Marcy Bayd:** Nope, Freddy and Summer are not married... cries Don't they make such a lovely couple? Yeaha, Freddy rocks! I hope you like this chapter!

**XxInsanityxX:** I have a few of their abulms before Insomniac... There's their first one, back when Al Sobrante (sp?) was the drummer, which is 1039 Smoothed Out/Slappy Hours... or maybe the slash is in a different place... there's Kerplunk, Dookie (I think) and a few others... And nooo! Give me my Billie posters back! cries hysterically

**i am not a chipmunk:** intense... is a fun word... lol, I know, Freddy needs a good hug, but he needs a shower first, methinks. I have problems writing long reviews, I hate the box you have to write in! Grr, anyways, I'm glad you like it and I'm just happy that you reviewed at all!

**rockerchik777:** I don't prefer the older material, per se, I just wish the band weren't so mainstream. I was talking about GD and someone said "Do you know when their second album is coming out?" Jeez, I almost slapped them around the face! Idiots... Wow, North Carolina! You have an American accent, then? That rocks soooo much! And London is cool... I almost went on the London Eye, but I'm scared of heights, so I didn't, lol. I did a lot of other stuff, though. I hope you have fuuuuuuuun, 'cause England rooooooooocks!

**Nanners-77:** Although is there any point in writing this and I'm talking to you right now? Lol, but I may not be when you read this. Although I may. Meh. Anyway, not only did Joey curse Michigan, he cursed the good name of rock 'n' roll with his utterly crap music. I mean, who puts in an ostentious (big word, it means 'showy offy') guitar solo right after the first verse? Just 'cause he has a rock-star daddy (who, by the way, _I've_ never heard of) it's like, I rock, yay! All his fangirls, too... pfff, you can practically hear the giggling shakes head Anyway, I'm a GOOD friend now, huh? I feel so honored! And it would rock so bad if I went to Toronto... one minute, just going to, um, ask you something... as weird as that sounds... Ok, NY is not very near Toronto, so when I go to NYU I won't be able to come and see you even then! cries Anyways, glad you liked it, and I was confused writing it, lol!

**i am phsycopathic:** They've met each other! They have! hides Please don't hurt me... or yourself, lol! I've updated!

**_Anyways, muchos huevos! And yes, I _am_ aware of what that means... ;o)_**


	5. Let's Sing

* * *

Ok, this may or may not work, I'm not sure. But for this chapter, the characters are going to be talking entirely in Green Day lyrics. That's why there's no song lyrics at the beginning of this chapter. The lyrics might not be in the right order, but each sentence is_ definitely_ from a Green Day song. If there's one that you don't believe tell me it and I'll name the song, but don't ask me to go through them all.Please let me know what you think. I hope it all makes sense. 

Oh, and just so you know, I did _not_ pick random lyrics. I spent AGES doing this. I really, really hope it works.

* * *

Summer was the first to pull away again. How _dare_ he just come back into herlife like this, as though nothing had happened?"I hate you," she said, in a deadly quiet voice. 

"I hate everything," replied Freddy, with no emotion in his voice. "Wasted youth, and a fistful of ideals. Here's to me."

"No-one ever said that life is fair," replied Summer. Freddy always felt so sorry for himself, as though everything reflected around him. Didn't he get it? Other people had just as bad lives as him; why did he always assume that just because he was going through something, he was the worst off.

"I lost before I did any wrong," continued Freddy, as though he hadn't heard her. Or maybe he just didn't want to. He had this image of himself, oh, poor me! Poor little hard-done-by Freddy, who never got a good start in life, who was doomed for the start.

"For crying out loud!" Summer snapped, thinking out loud. It came out wrong, as though she was going to correct him, as though she was going to boost his ego, when she had no intention of doing either.

"Don't even try. Who the hell are you to tell me what I am and what's my master plan," Freddy said morosely.

"I guess I just can't listen to this one sided conversation again," snapped Summer. He never listened to her. She felt like telling him all about what was going on with her, about _her_ life. She'd felt like ending it many a time, but she wasn't that _selfish_. She dragged herself through it simply because of all the people it would hurt if she didn't. _She_ wasn't going to take the easy way out. "You're always cracking the same old lines again." Couldn't he ever complain about something different, for a change?

"As I stepped to the edge," Freddy said, and she knew he was talking about how close he'd just come to ending it all. "Can't take anymore."

"You don't say," Summer replied sarcastically. "Do or die. No reply? You're pathetic."

"I'm a snot-nosed slob without a job," said Freddy, as though he agreed with her. This just made Summer madder. For goodness' sake, couldn't he argue? He's just so resigned to the fact, it's just infuriating!

"Thank you, sir," she said, resorting to sarcasm yet again. "Hell hounds on your trail once again?"

"Nothing but hell to pay," Freddy said, trying to make her understand, "when all you want to do is not give up." Why couldn't she see? Why couldn't she see what he was going through, and how much he wanted her back.

"I don't care!" shouted Summer, and both were taken back by the force of her anger. "I'm beat down and half brain dead, the long lost king of fools! I may be dumb, but I'm not stupid enough to stay here with you."

She turned to go, but Freddy caught her wrist. "I know I'm not alright," he whispered. "My own worst friend... my own closest enemy..." Please, he was trying to say, please come back. Don't you see? We're no good as normal friends, but together we can do so much.

"The world owes _me_, sofuck you! Troubled times, you know I can not lie. Taken for granted now. What's in a name?" That's all he seemed to want, she thought, good old Summer, to come and save him again. What about _her_? Not just the one who always pulled him out from a scrape, what did he actually need? What did he want from _her_?

"A conscientious objector to the war that's in my mind," Freddy replied, knowing exactly what she meant, as usual. "I'm taking back what's mine," and as he said that, he pulled her after him down under the bridge, to shelter from the steady beating of the rain.

As she followed him, Summer murmured to herself, "Today is the first day of the rest of our lives."

* * *

What do you think? Did it work? I don't think so, but let me know. 

Reviews!

**I don't. Freakin'. Believe it. Listen, I had your review answers all typed up (and trust me, it took me long enough) but no, it had to go and need refreshing! So I refreshed it and all my answers had gone. I can't be bothered typing them all out again, I'm so sorry, so please review and I'll definitely get them all up next time.**


	6. Hours

**NOW**

"_You are bleak_

_You are beautiful_

_No matter what they say..."_

The girl spun and danced, her dark hair falling onto her bare shoulders as she held her pale arms wide, the only sound in the room coming from an old battered CD player. The singer's unique voice rose and fall over the basic melody, creating such an atmosphere that if you stumbled upon them, it could quite easily take your breath away.

"_Sing it out..."_

Her eyes were closed, and it was quite surprising that she didn't lose her balance, not once, as the room was devoid of all light. The heavy black velvet curtains were closed, not allowing even a chink of light from the unusually bright winter afternoon outside, and darkness was the only thing visible at first. When your eyes got used to the surroundings you could perhaps see a young girl, in a white dress, spinning around with such an expression on her face that one could have imagined she was somewhere else entirely.

"_Sing it out..."_

A faint smile was upon her face, matching the sheer ecstasy that anyone who knew her could have told you would be there, that indescribable feeling she got only from dancing. Her movements were fluid and beautiful to watch, and not even the slight _click_ that indicated the changing of the tracks could put a break or pause in the flowing liquid that was the dance.

"_Your new best friends, your confidence_

_And I'll be here when you get home_

_When you get home..."_

The music died to a simple bassline, and voices could be heard.

"_I can't feel the same about you anymore,_

_I can't feel the same about you anymore..."_

A look of pain briefly crossed the girl's face, penetrating her consciousness as nothing else would, and with one quick movement she crossed the room and sharply jabbed the _off_ button. Those lines must have struck a chord, one the girl did not like to remember, and she pulled on her thick winter coat, deciding that she'd done enough practice for one night.

Her breath struck the crisp winter air like shards of glass, causing a cloud of mist to stream through the air as the girl breathed in and out. She liked it here, in England, she decided, much better than America. She could tell herself it was because of the accents or the weather, but she'd be lying. The reality is, she liked it because it _wasn't_ America. Because none of the people she'd once known were here, forcing her to live out the same painful memories repeatedly.

She wouldn't forget him, she _couldn't_ forget him. But that didn't mean she had to remember him, day in, day out, where he was, _who_ he was...

And 'was' seemed to be all that was left; the past tense, things that could have been, but now, never would. 'Was' and 'why' were in abundance, _why_ did he have to be there, that day, _why_ did they have to have argued before he left, _why _him? why _why why why whywhywhywhy_...

And, of course, the only thing left to say was: "IT WASN'T FAIR!"

A few startled birds hurriedly fled their trees as the girl screamed out her grievances to the world, hands clenched into fists so hard that the knuckles were white, eyes tight shut, mouth red and raw and open. The words that had been building up and bubbling over, things left unsaid and things that should never have _been_ said, all of them could finally burst free to the open air, all of them were finally allowed out.

The never-ending stream of words finally slowed to a stop, and the girl cautiously opened her eyes, as though the world could have changed, as though _anything_ could have happened. It seemed the same, but who could tell? To know if the world had changed you would have had to know all the exact details of what the world had been like in the first place, and if there was someone who _did_ know that, they certainly weren't telling anyone.

But something was going to happen, the girl was certain. The air was charged with tension, and she could only hope it wasn't going to happen to her. She pushed back her hair from her face with one shaking hand, and ran down the steps and towards her house.

"_Recovery..."_


End file.
